Elijah nodded, slowly, his shoulders dropping a fraction. “That’s what I told him. But I don’t know if he believed me.”
“Is this a free sample? Or did he buy this shit? And what is it?”
“He said he bought it. It’s supposed to be some kinda uppers. Final exams are coming up.”
Carter sighed. Things were getting out of control with the high school crowd. It had been a smart move, trying to turn the young people against them, and then, without any further effort, their parents. But it wasn’t something they could brush off any longer. It needed to be shut down, now – but they couldn’t find Fred or Ricky…
An idea struck. “Elijah? How would you feel about giving us a hand?”
~*~
Kris offered her a ride, but Leah wanted to drive her own car. She even packed a small bag with a change of clothes, extra hoodie, toothbrush, and deodorant. Just in case. She had no idea what to expect – evident in the nervous way her hands kept trembling on the wheel as she drove, Kris behind her, and Roman tailing along on his bike behind her – but there was no way murder meant anything good. She wanted to call her mom, but decided to wait until she talked to Maggie, and figured out exactly what was going on.
Something serious, she realized, when she slowed to turn in at Dartmoor. All the gates were closed and locked with chains save the main way down between the bike shop and the clubhouse, and two prospects in cuts with guns on their hips stood sentry at either side. She slowed, and rolled down her window, as one – a young, thickly-muscled guy with buzzed dark hair – approached, offering her a quick smile beneath his Ray-Bans.
“Are you Leah?” he asked.
“Yeah.”
He stepped back. “Maggie said to expect you. Go on in.” He waved her forward, and she touched the gas again.
Maggie had said to expect her, and Kris had come to get her – tall, strong, prospect boyfriend in tow – because they hadn’t wanted her traveling on her own.
By the time she’d parked and walked to the clubhouse door, her stomach was churning.
Inside, the scene was one of controlled chaos. Lots of Dogs milling around, talking, hurrying, several speaking into cell phones. The old ladies had camped out at the tables. Ash was crying, and Maggie bounced him lightly on her lap, crooning endearments.
Ava looked up, spotted her, and waved her over.
Remy was sitting beside his mother, but slid off the chair and offered it to Leah with adorable gentlemanliness.
“Thank you, sweetie.” She dropped down beside her best friend, skin rippling with gooseflesh by now that had nothing to do with the air conditioning. “Okay, what’s going on? Something about a murder?”
Ava nodded, her expression serious – but not tense. She was too old hat at this to get worked up about a lone little murder. The idea would have made Leah laugh at another time. “A high school student. He was involved with a couple of dealers, apparently, and they wanted him to try and paint the club in a bad light.”
“High school? Is this about the missing girl? Allie?”
For a second, Ava looked surprised, then she nodded. “Carter told you. Yeah. It’s all a mess. This whole thing stinks of some scary shit that went down in Texas back in the winter. Dad just wanted to call everyone together and get us all on the same page. The whole ‘watch your back’ monologue.” She made a whatever gesture.
Leah nodded, and glanced around the room, searching for Carter, and not finding him. She turned back to Ava. “Okay, you wanna tell me why I’m here?”
“Hm?” Ava lifted her brows.
“Kris said this was for Dogs and old ladies, and when I told her I wasn’t one, she said your mom said I was Carter’s.”
Ava pressed her lips together, hiding a smile.
Maggie turned toward them, because she had supersonic hearing, apparently. “I said you were with Carter, honey, I never said old lady – though that can’t be far off, can it?” She offered a perfect cotillion smile that had Leah laughing despite herself.
“We’ve only, like, hung out! And that was last night. It’s way too early for labels.”
“He didn’t spend the night?” Maggie asked innocently.
“No.”
“Shame.”
A loud clapping of hands drew everyone’s attention, and all eyes swung toward the bar. Conversation died down. Even Ash fell silent, suddenly, not even a year old and already obeying his club president, Leah thought ruefully.
Ghost had been the one to clap. He stood leaning back against the bar, Michael and Mercy flanking him – and Carter, she saw, with a pulse of heat and gladness. Her first good jolt of the morning.
When Ghost took a breath, before he addressed them all, and laid terror at their feet, she gave herself a moment to look at Carter, and to appreciate the view: a simple, good old-fashioned ogling, just because she could, just because he was beautiful, and he’d kissed her last night like he couldn’t keep his hands off of her.
Though the interior of the clubhouse was always dim, his hair seemed to glow wheat-gold under the can lights. He wore a white t-shirt with very short, tight sleeves that showed off the lean, muscled beauty of his arms, naturally tan from riding and working out. Through the open halves of his cut, she could see the way the shirt clung to his chest, and flat stomach. He still had an athlete’s build, some lucky trick of genetics, freshly-honed again, from helping the high school quarterback.
She appreciated all of him, in her indulgent moment of scrutiny, but it was his face that captured, and then held her attention. Still all clean lines and perfect angles; aristocratic bone structure that belied his origins, and those long-lashed, stunning blue eyes. The faint, lingering softness of boyhood had gone, though. His jaw was sharp, his eyes shadowed, guarded, serious in a way they’d never been growing up. And, right now, he looked like a Lean Dog. At the coffeeshop, even at her house last night, he’d looked like Carter, well-known and well-liked. Now, though, something about his face, and his gaze, and his stance labeled him irrefutably as Dog.
It wasn’t unattractive.
“Alright,” Ghost said, and it was time to focus on murder.
~*~
For all the ways that Ghost could be a Neanderthal, a throwback to the original, post-war one-percenters, he had fairly progressive views on the role of women within the club. Up to a point. He told the old ladies the truth that morning: about what happened in Texas, about Luis’s threat to Candy, about Allie and Nicole, and Jimmy. About the kids at the high school and their anti-Dog sentiments. No doubt all of them had heard all or most of the details piecemeal, from their husbands and from each other, but it was good to get everyone in the same room, and all on the same page at once. Easier to look out for one another and act in concert.
Like a team meeting when he’d played ball, Carter reflected. Everyone knowing everyone else’s objectives could only help game play.
He was mostly preoccupied with mental prep for the part he was to play, but partway through the meeting, he spotted Leah sitting next to Ava, and started. He’d planned on calling her later, and giving her a rundown, but someone had invited her here, to be part of the family meeting.
As Ava’s best friend? he wondered.
Or as his old lady?
The thought didn’t panic him – but his pulse gave a hard bump.
He caught her gaze, and she smiled, small and quick. He smiled back.
“Everyone needs to be on high alert,” Ghost said. “I won’t say lock yourselves indoors, or camp out here – this isn’t a full lockdown. I know you’ve all got responsibilities – Emmie can’t leave the farm.” She nodded in response. “But we have to play things smart. Never be alone, and I want everyone to be armed at all times. Ladies, you’ve got conceal carry permits, and I expect them to be in your wallets. Have a gun within reach at all times. If something looks fishy, call someone; don’t assume everything’s okay. There’s no such thing as being paranoid right now.”
Everyone nodded; everyone look
ed sober, and serious, and steel-edged.
When the meeting adjourned, Ghost turned to him and clapped him on the shoulder. “When are you headed over to the school?”
Not here’s when you’re going, but when are you going? That bit of autonomy floored him.
“In a couple hours, probably. Elijah was going to gather up the team, and as many friends as he can. I’m supposed to wait for his text.”
Ghost nodded. “Good. Take someone with you when you go – leave him in the parking lot if you don’t want to spook the kids, but no one travels alone.”
“Yes, sir.” They were all probably going to get tired of hearing those words before it was all over, though Carter knew they were necessary.
Conversation picked back up, the dull roar of lots of overlapping voices, and Carter went to find Leah.
She’d gotten up from her chair, and stood beside one of the room’s support columns, one shoulder braced against it, fond gaze trained on Ava’s boys as they very seriously discussed something with bent heads and fervent whispers. Carter spared a moment’s regret that children so small were here listening to Ghost’s dire warnings, hearing their mothers told to be armed and watchful. Murder and drug deals and vengeful cartel bosses weren’t the sorts of stories he would have wanted children of his own to hear.
But he supposed these were club kids, and it wasn’t always possible to shield them.
Lucy McCall joined Remy and Cal, and the three of them set off at a dash, off on an adventure.
Leah turned to him, as he reached her, angled her body toward his in a subtle but inviting way. Not provocative, but open, trusting. Simple and innocent, but it hit him like the best kind of shove.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
The way her cheeks colored, faintly, he thought she must be remembering last night. His hands wanted to feel the silk of her hair again – the silk of her skin, untouched, still, because he’d been too eager to go farther than assaulting her with kisses.
“Did Ava call you?” he asked.
“Maggie sent Kris up to get me, actually,” she said. “We’re neighbors, you know.”
“I know.”
“Roman followed us in.” Her smile looked rueful. “I’ve never had the personal Lean Dog escort experience before. Kinda exciting.” But her eyes were full of worry, and he thought exciting was actually scary.
He nodded. “Maybe you can hang out with Ava today. And then tomorrow, I can escort you to work. Or one of the prospects…” He trailed off when he saw her brows draw together. “What?”
“It’s nice that you’re worried. But I was honestly shocked to be included in all this.” She gestured to the room around them. “You and I just – I mean, I’m not–” Hesitance, now, when she’d been so firm the day before yesterday in telling him that he didn’t really want him. “I’m not an old lady,” she finished with an uncertain shrug. “I don’t expect to use up valuable club resources.”
He frowned. “It’s not about labels.” The words came out sharper than intended, but stress was making him firmer, he found. “You’re important to people in the club – you’re important to me. That means you need to be protected.”
She blinked. “No one even knows I’m–”
“Leah, these guys killed a high school kid and laid him out like a freak piece of art. They’re smart, and they’re not letting any kind of moral code stand in the way. If they’ve tailed us, or followed us, or spied on us with cameras or something, they’ll know about you.”
Her lips parted on a soft “oh.” She swallowed, and he reached out, sorry that he’d snapped, to lay careful fingertips against her arm.
“I’m not trying to scare you,” he said, softly. “But – I’m scared. I – nobody – wants to risk anything happening to club family. We couldn’t live with that.”
She took a breath. “What about my parents?”
“I…”
“Are they in danger, too?”
He didn’t know, and he could tell that she read that doubt in his face. Which wasn’t at all acceptable; he couldn’t pull her into this world with him, put a target on her back, and then not have the answers she needed.
He schooled his features, and lifted his shoulders, forcibly gathering his resolve. “I’ll talk to Ian about getting them security,” he said.
Her brows went up. “Ian?”
“He’s buying the building, right? That shop is his investment, now. He’ll want to protect it, and that means protecting your parents.”
Slowly, a smile dawned. “Listen to you. All strategic and stuff.”
His face heated. “I don’t want you to worry. You and your parents will be safe.” A lump formed in his stomach when he remembered that he’d said the same thing to Jimmy Connors, currently cold in a morgue drawer.
She sighed. “Let’s hope so.”
Ditto. “I’ve got to run,” he said apologetically. “I’m supposed to…”
But she was already nodding, face full of understanding. “Of course. We’ll talk later.”
He ducked down to kiss her, one quick, soft press of lips that left his stomach jumping in a new way, and left her blush a shade deeper.
He went to talk with Mercy, because, despite his size and sometimes-sinister look, he was the easiest, most sociable, and best able to set young people at ease. Mercy agreed to tag along to the school, and Carter went to his dorm to make sure he was properly armed and equipped.
He was headed back to the common room when he almost ran into someone coming out of the kitchen. It was Jazz, and the moment he recognized her, his stomach flipped.
“Hey, honey,” she said, breezily, hand propped on her hip as she surveyed the crowded common room. “This is wild, huh? That poor kid. And in my bar! Holy hell.”
“Your bar?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes. “Mine to manage, don’t go thinking I’ve got things backward.” Her gaze settled on him, and turned mischievous, her smile sharp as a blade. “So your girlfriend’s here, huh?”
“Oh, uh, no, she – I – uh…”
She laughed, and it was easy, not cruel. Jazz had never been that. “Stop, I’m teasing. But I saw you with her.” She tilted her head. “You like her.”
“I thought we’d already established that.”
She snorted. “Yeah. Y’all are cute together.” She patted his arm, and it was friendly rather than suggestive. “I’m glad for you.”
Despite the murder, and the danger, and the logistics of protecting their own and their city, Carter was glad, too. He finally had something good in his life – now he just had to look after it.
Thirty-Two
“You want me to hang back?” Mercy asked. “Or come with?”
Carter smoothed his hair and glanced across the parking lot to the practice field. It was a Sunday, but a surprising number of cars filled the lot. Students had gathered at the edge of the field, and he spotted Elijah at the head of the crowd, talking to them, gesturing with his hands in a soothing way. A true leader, on and off the field.
It was time for him to step up again. To keep stepping up.
“Stay here for now,” he told Mercy. “And come over if it looks like I’m screwing it up.”
Mercy grinned. “Go get ‘em, QB.”
He took a deep breath, and headed over.
He’d debated changing clothes; leaving his cut behind, or wearing shorts and sneakers. It would have made him look younger and non-threatening. But he’d stood in front of his mirror, and he’d studied his cut-wearing reflection, and he’d decided to go as he was. He was a Lean Dog, now, and there was no sense denying it. He was meeting with these kids as a liaison and trying to disguise that would make him look like he was hiding something. So he approached with his cut, his boots, his knife, his gun, his wallet chain, and what he hoped was a friendly expression.
Elijah spotted him first, and waved. Carter waved back, and saw several heads turn toward him. By the time he reached the grass, he could hear the buz
z and murmur of conversation; couldn’t tell if it sounded excited or worried. Several of the girls huddled closer together, and even clasped hands.
Ah, shit, he thought, but pushed a smile across his face.
“Guys,” Elijah called, voice carrying. “Guys, guys, come on. Let’s get quiet. This is the friend I was telling y’all about.”
Friend. Carter hadn’t expected that.
“Y’all remember Carter Michaels, right? His photo’s in the weight room.”
One of the boys, tall and muscular, cocked his head to the side and wrinkled his nose. “That’s Carter Michaels?”
Before Carter could say anything in his own defense, Elijah said, “His arm’s better than yours, don’t hate. Guys, listen. Carter’s been helping me with my passes the last few weeks. When I heard about the shit going around with the dogs printed on the baggies, I asked him, and he said it’s bullshit. The Dogs aren’t selling that, and the Dogs aren’t the ones who took Allie.”
“Man, whatever.”
“The Dogs deal drugs,” one of the girls said, voice squeaky with fright. “Everyone knows it.”
“My uncle gets his weed from y’all.”
“The Lean Dogs kill people.”
“Yeah, Dogs suck!”
“Hey.” Carter didn’t shout, but he leveled as much authority as he possessed into that one word. To his shock, all the kids fell silent. He saw wide eyes, and frowns, and a few brave sneers, trying to cover up fear. “I asked Elijah to bring you guys here today because I wanted to explain to you what’s going on. There’s been a lot of crazy shit going on lately, and lots of talk about the Dogs doing things we haven’t done.
“We’re an outlaw MC, yeah. I don’t think I have to tell you what that means. We don’t follow all the rules all the time – that’s kind of in the playbook.” He saw one fleeting smile. “But this club has been a staple in this city since before you all were born. Since your parents were kids. The club doesn’t kidnap teenagers. It doesn’t sell party drugs with our logo stamped on it – who would do something that stupid? Who would advertise that they’re dealing?”
Homecoming (Dartmoor Book 8) Page 34